


Scarlet

by Chestnut_filly



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Femslash, Fic, Lesbian Character, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chestnut_filly/pseuds/Chestnut_filly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy wears crimson lipstick when she dances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarlet

Daisy’s lipstick tonight is a deep crimson color that reminds Jordan of theater curtains. Jordan watches her sparkle about the room with Tom, pouting her decadent lips at everyone she sees. Daisy takes sips out of her highball periodically, and the rim is stained muddy red. For a moment, she lets the rim of the glass rest below the swell of her lower lip, and then the Boston matron she’s entertaining says something that makes her laugh, and the movement drags her mouth against the crystal, leaving a long dark smear behind. Jordan’s fingers twitch against her thighs. 

“Jordan! Why are you still lurking over here?” Daisy alights beside her once again, a fresh glass in her hand. She takes a gulp, and licks the drops of gin off where they’ve beaded on the waxy color on her upper lip. “Have some fun, Jordan, it’s my party!” 

Jordan notices the way her words run together, and the hectic sparkle of her eyes. Obviously, she’s more than a few cocktails in. Her tongue flickers over to the corner of her scarlet mouth, and Jordan can feel a deep throbbing start between her legs. 

“Your lipstick is smeared,” Jordan blurts, any and all thoughts of charm vanished from her mind. Not for the first time, she is glad that the reputation for hauteur she has developed provides her with an excuse for strange behavior. 

“Oh, is it?” Daisy pouts and fishes about for a handkerchief. She dabs at the corner of her mouth, and only manages to transfer the dark paint to the linen. “Is it better now?” She pushes her lower lip forward with her tongue as though she is trying to help Jordan see, and Jordan fights down a shudder.

“Not quite- I think you’ve made it worse, actually.”

“Well, I need to go and fix it, then. Come on up to my room and help.”

Jordan starts. A good idea this isn’t, not in any way. “I don’t think-”

“Oh, come on, you look bored stiff. You’re bored, I’m bored, let’s take a little vacation,” Daisy says. She turns and begins the trek to the stairs, picking up another highball glass as she goes. “Come on.”

Jordan follows Daisy as she skirts the dancing couples and circulating waiters. _Bad idea, bad idea_ , she thinks, but when Daisy opens the door to her rooms and leaves it ajar behind her, she follows without a second thought. It’s not like she’s ever been able to refuse Daisy much. 

Daisy walks right over to the bureau and sits before the gilt mirror Tom’d bought her for their third anniversary, along with a whole new set of bedroom furnishings. She sits down rather unsteadily, harder than she’d probably meant to. Somewhat clumsily, she picks up the tube of lipstick and leans forward towards the mirror. Pursing her lips, she begins to lower the paint, but her hands are shaking with the alcohol, and she only manages to smear the remaining scarlet paint. Jordan thinks about other ways to smear lipstick, and fights down another shudder with her nails digging into her palms. 

“Let me,” she says, ignoring the persistent mental voice muttering, _bad idea, bad idea_. “I’m not as drunk as you.” 

Daisy sniffs, but tosses the tube down onto the table and sits back, crossing her arms. Jordan comes forward slowly, not certain of anything but the color of Daisy’s mouth and the heat between her thighs. She fumbles the lipstick a few times, but manages to flick the lever and hold it steady. 

“I’ll need you to face me,” she says, vaguely impressed at the steadiness of her voice. Jordan reaches out and prods at Daisy’s shoulder until she turns away from the mirror. 

“But now I can’t see,” she complains. 

“You’ll just have to trust me to do a good job, then,” Jordan responds. She tilts Daisy’s chin up, and tells her to keep her head there while Jordan looks for a cloth to remove the smeared paint. 

Once she finds her handkerchief, Jordan dabs it along the edges of Daisy’s mouth, long glides against the smudges of dark red. The paint looks like blood against the pale fabric of the handkerchief. 

“D’you know, you test the color on your skin before you put it on your lips,” Daisy says suddenly, slurring a bit and making Jordan draw a streak down her chin. “Here, let me show you!” She grabs the tube out of Jordan’s hand and brandishes it. “Give me your hand.”

“I don’t…” Jordan begins, and then flounders, not sure what she doesn’t. “You-”

“Give me your _hand_ ,” Daisy says, louder, and Jordan quickly offers it to her. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but she doesn’t want anyone coming in to see what’s going on, and interrupt the tableau of Daisy’s drunk-bright eyes and bloody mouth and Jordan’s hand in hers. 

Daisy snatches at her fingers and turns her hand palm-down. Jordan spares a moment to hope wildly that her hand isn’t sweating, and then just focuses on the tingling spreading from her fingers as Daisy begins to stroke over the tendons of her hand.

“See, you just-” Daisy says, and runs the lipstick over her hand. It streaks and smears bright scarlet, and Jordan can’t look away. Daisy strokes the paint over her skin again, and then makes a pretty moue. 

“It isn’t bright enough. Your lips are redder than that.” She shifts her grip to Jordan’s elbow, and runs the lipstick in a line from Jordan’s wrist to the crook of her arm, following the veins. Jordan draws in a sharp breath through her nostrils and can’t stop the little jut of her hips. Daisy doesn’t seem to notice.

“That’s more like it. Your lips are so red, Jordan, they’re always so red.” At this point, Jordan is biting her lip so hard she thinks it might start bleeding to match the lipstick. She can feel her lower belly _throbbing_.

Then, Daisy apparently gets bored of her inner elbow, and makes a sharp jab at Jordan’s collarbones. She rubs a streak of crimson down to the hollow of Jordan’s neck, blazing lines of sensation following the tube. Jordan breaks. 

It’s only a little sound, a breathy _ahha _, but it makes Daisy jerk like she’s been slapped, and the lipstick smears down Jordan’s sternum to just above her breasts. Again, she makes a noise, and Daisy stares at her like she’s looking at a ghost, the glaze of drunkenness gone from her eyes. They are frozen for a moment, staring. Jordan’s gaze drops to Daisy’s gorgeous lips.__

__Daisy throws the lipstick tube to the dressing table, and backs up quickly, almost tripping over her heeled mules. For the first time, Jordan makes a move, reaching out with her scarlet-stained hand to stop her. Daisy takes another wild glance and almost runs out the door._ _

__For a second or two, Jordan allows herself to panic. But the insistent pounding between her legs and the heat in her cheeks don’t go away. Jordan presses her fingertips to her collarbone and they come away coated in red. Trembling a little, Jordan brings them to her lips and sucks softly. The paint is waxy and slightly bitter, and Jordan groans and lets her forehead thump onto the mirror._ _

__With her clean hand, she scrabbles with her skirt until she’s hiked it above her waist, and then grinds the heel of her hand between her legs in sharp, hard circles._ _

__She gasps at the sensation and rubs harder, rocking her hips. She mouths at her hand as if she was kissing it, stroking her tongue against the streaks of paint. Sharp darts of pleasure gather in her lower belly and shoot through her thighs, down to her fingertips. Jordan pants hard, squeezes her eyes shut. In her mind, she imagines Daisy continuing her artwork, drawing a crimson line between her breasts and around each nipple and across her ribs and hips until every part of Jordan was the color of Daisy’s soft mouth. She imagines Daisy finally lowering her head to kiss the start of the paint in the hollow of Jordan’s neck, and biting down, bruising the skin purple, and her lipstick coming away smeared, and a perfect imprint of her mouth left on Jordan’s skin._ _

__With a tiny cry, Jordan comes. The feeling washes through her for long moments, and vaguely Jordan can feel her mouth brushing against the cold glass of the mirror. She simply stays there for a second or two, gasping for breath, before straightening up and smoothing down her skirt. She looks at her hands- one is coated in smeared scarlet paint and saliva, the other shiny with her own wetness. Reaching for the forgotten handkerchief on the dresser, Jordan wipes off her hands. The mirror has the shadow of a kiss left on it, red from the transferred lipstick. Jordan moves to wipe that away too, then draws back. Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, she leans forward again and deliberately presses her mouth to the glass._ _

__The imprint, when she straightens up again, is clear and blood red. Rearranging her evening wrap to hide the scarlet still on her sternum, Jordan strides out of the room to say her goodnights._ _

__She takes the tube of lipstick with her. Perhaps Daisy will need it again tomorrow night._ _


End file.
